A Proposal and an Engagement
by CrackinAndProudOfIt
Summary: Dora Baggins and her father, Fosco, come to Bag End on a somewhat awkward errand shortly after Bilbo's return, and Fosco receives a surprise from the most unlikely of places. Written for the B2MeM12 Bingo Bash.


**A Proposal and an Engagement**

**Bingo #: B1**

**Prompt: first line of Pride and Prejudice**

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a fortune must be in want of a wife. Such was the case of Mr. Bilbo Baggins after returning from some "adventure" or other, and so this tidbit made its way all over the Four Farthings, slowly twisting into the fact that he was not only lacking said dearly beloved but that he was "in the market" for her.

A wealthy man is perhaps not nearly so desirable for a husband as for a son-in-law, so poor Dora Baggins could hardly be blamed for the ridiculous notion her father had procured. Fosco had insisted she dress up, behave herself, and accompany him on a visit to Bag End, from which she would supposedly return betrothed.

Her stiff, itchy, "fancy" dress was not only stiff and itchy but stifling-hot on the warm early March afternoon. She awkwardly placed one foot in front of the other all the way up the winding path to the top of the Hill. When she and her father reached its crest, she hastily straightened the prim bun her mother had managed to coax her wild brown curls into two hours before her and Fosco's departure and sighed.

This was the last thing in the world that Dora wanted to be doing, especially now that she'd reach the mature age of thirty-nine. _By this time, _she thought frustratedly, _Dad shouldn't be making my decisions for me!_

But one look at Fosco's determined face indicated that, in fact, the very last thing Dora wanted to be doing was arguing his match-making skills. Before knocking on the door, Fosco pulled the potential bride-to-be aside and gave her, with a shake of his finger, one final set of instructions: "Let _me_ do the talking. Sit quietly, look pretty, and don't you go giving him any personal advice, warrn'ted or no."

"Yes, Dad," she answered resignedly, and followed her father reluctantly to the little green door. Fosco rapped upon it with all the fervency he would have in the case of some crisis, but it was still a full minute or two before the door slowly creaked inward, revealing a somewhat rumpled and flustered Bilbo. He appeared to have only just thrown on proper clothes and run a brush through his hair at the moment he heard Fosco at the door. Appearances can be deceiving, but this time, their honesty was remarkable.

"Oh, Fosco, Dora," he said somewhat slowly as he wiped sleep from his bleary eyes, "what a surprise! Do come in and have some tea."

Father and daughter did as invited, and soon Bilbo and relations-however distant- had seated themselves in the host's best parlour, a sunny, delightful room facing the blooming garden. Dora felt she would have liked it a good deal, had she been visiting Bilbo under other circumstances than these.

At first, Fosco made some attempt at awkward small talk, speaking idly of the weather, predictions for the crops, the latest mischief of the lads and lasses, but that conversation soon ran dry, leaving a tangible silence fallen over the three hobbits.

"Well," said Bilbo finally, setting down his cup of tea and looking the older hobbit straight in the eyes, "I know you, Fosco, better than to think you'd show up at my door without warning just to exchange pleasantries. Go ahead." Here he sighed. "What is it you want?"

"My dear kinsman," answered Fosco without hesitation, which Dora recognized as a very bad sign that her father was about to start talking out of his head, and in that irritating business façade, as well, "I come here today asking for nothing at all, but instead with a proposal to _give_ you something."

"Say on," said Bilbo uninterestedly.

"This thing that I wish to give you-" _Thing?_ thought Dora indignantly. "-is the one thing that you, even with all your grand fortune, still are lacking." Fosco paused, but continued before Bilbo could figure out a response, "You see, all that very fortune will simply go to waste when you die- forgive my morbidity, but it's coming to us all one of these days- for there's no one of your own blood to inherit that money."

"Excuse my own forwardness," replied Bilbo, somewhat confused, "but won't you be dead yourself by the time I am? You _are_ suggesting that I make you my beneficiary?"

Seeming to take no offense, Fosco laughed heartily before responding, "Not hardly, not hardly, dear Bilbo! On the contrary, I'm proposing you settle down, marry, and have some heirs of your own. And who better for a wife than my Dora?"

Dora felt her face take on a vehement shade of crimson. When Fosco lowered his eyes to take his fifth cake of the meal and another swig of tea, Bilbo glanced quizzically at Dora, raising a bemused eyebrow. She shook her head "No!" most emphatically, but was stopped mid-motion when her father looked up from his refreshment. A cunning plan coming to the Expert Treasurehunter's mind, he winked at Dora.

"So," said Fosco, "what say you to that proposition: my Dora to share in your wealt- I mean, love?"

Bilbo heaved a dramatic sigh of mock chagrin. "I am sorry, Fosco," he replied gravely, "I should have told you before."

"Told me what?" snapped Fosco. Dora's father was far from fond of being declined.

Bilbo reached into the pocket of his blue waistcoat and removed his hand closed around something he had drawn from within. "Like I said, very, very sorry, but-" He opened his palm; Fosco gasped, for on it rested a golden ring. "-you see," Bilbo continued, "I am already engaged."


End file.
